AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His slow Texan drawl makes every word sound like a lazy threat. It’s false advertising, though. Everything about this man points to him being a killer, from the white scars crisscrossing his knuckles and left cheekbone, to the casual appropriation of my establishment. You don’t just stroll into a man’s casino and make yourself at home unless you have the balls and the bullets to back it up.
“Sit down, Frankie.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot of things about you. When Dante Santiago asks me to look into someone, I do my due diligence.”
At the mention of the Colombian kingpin’s name, my mouth paints a grim smile. I should have known Santiago would have eyes on us. He never makes any decision lightly.
“You’re a conflicted man,” he declares, steepling his hands in front of him.
“Conflicted, how?”
“Let me ask you a question.” He drops his feet from the desk and leans forward on both elbows to shoot it to me straight. “Love or revenge? Which one of them matters to you the most?”
I have a flash of a memory. I hear my father’s dying words in my head:
“Be as liberal with your vengeance as you are with your love, figlio mio. Don’t waste it.”
“Who says they can’t coexist?” I take a couple of steps towards him, forcing him to lean back in the chair to maintain a steady eye contact with me.My move.“Who are you?”
“Joseph Grayson.”
His move. His fucking move.
He rises to his feet, as if the threat of his name isn’t enough and he has to prove his reputation with his massive shadow as well.
Newsflash: The name is enough.Morethan enough.
He’s Santiago’s red right hand. They served in the US Military together over two decades ago, and they haven’t stopped making wars since. He’s taken a bullet for the man. The man’s taken a bullet for him. He’s the beating heart of Santiago’s entire organization. A soldier of death and anarchy. The best man at his wedding…
I glance at his gun again. “Want a drink?” I offer out the single malt as a peace-offering, and he keeps me on tenterhooks for at least five seconds before taking the bottle from me.
“Maybe later.” Instead of unscrewing the cap, he places it on the table between us. “Business first.” He gestures to the spare chair on the other side the desk again. “Sit.”
“No, thanks. I prefer to stand.”
He stares at me, those chilly grey blues searing into my skin and robbing me of my free will until I’m relenting with a curse.
His gaze dips to the bloodstains down the front of my white dress shirt. “Guido Rossi’s last will and testament, I presume?”
A hint of a smile touches my lips. “Something like that.”
“I thought Aiden made it clear to you. No waves until Santiago arrives.”
“I’m not Poseidon, Mr. Grayson. I saw a rat and I stamped on it. Fear not, the king cats are still purring.”
“That’s not the way we see it.” He goes to throw his boots up on the desk again, but I’m quicker, slamming my Oxfords down first, and accepting his frown with a smirk.
“My office. My rules.”
“My gun. Your bullet.”
He delivers it so casually, but I hear the click of the safety in my head.
“You wanted to talk business, Mr. Grayson, so let’s talk business.”
He blows out a breath. “Taking London is more than us simply moving our product into a new market, Frankie. This is about crossing lines.”
